


The Shape of Her

by May



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bittersweet, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May/pseuds/May
Summary: Tara is a strong witch and Willow wants to kiss her. Maybe she can. She thinks she can.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storm_queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_queen/gifts).



Tara takes Willow's hands in hers. She lets them sit on her palms, running her thumbs back and forth, slowly. Willow can sense her quiet power, because her own pulses in her wrists, a little, at the feel of it. Willow thought magic fizzes and sparks, but Tara seems to make it run like a stream, gentle and bubbling from some warm space in the ground.

"You're so strong," says Tara, and her fingers move down to Willow's wrists, to stroke over her pulse. The gesture is more sensual, somehow, than the comfort of her thumbs on the backs of Willow's hands. It makes Willow want to kiss her. Maybe she can. She thinks she can.

The sweet, bubbling stream of magic runs all the way through Tara, all the way under her skin. Willow could put her hands on Tara's waist, and feel it. But no, she won't touch her any more than this, unless Tara moves first.

"You're stronger," she replies. Willow knows this to be true. She has felt like a wasted cloud, feeling the edges of her own thunder. "You are, I wish I could make you know."

Tara just blushes and smiles. That's the part where she is all delicate sunbeams to Willow's rumbling thunderstorm. Tara's fingers against her wrists still feel intimate, and Willow aches to know that she can feel that again.

Willow locks fingers with Tara, and takes in all of the details that she can. The sheen of her hair, the blue of her eyes, the softness of her mouth and the smell of her perfume, which was quietly sweet. Willow closes her eyes and leans forward. She takes every second to listen to Tara's breathing.

When Willow opens her eyes, Tara is gone. There is no trace in the air, no sense of her magic. She's in the secret space of her room inside the compound, seeping sly magic out of the air. Outside, the sun is setting over the Cotswolds. Willow wonders if she even got her right. That's the problem with a simulacrum created from memory. They become more and more distorted, the further away you get.


End file.
